


Things We Leave In the Sunlight

by stranger12



Series: Three Six Six Project - The Leftovers and So On [5]
Category: Hostel (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranger12/pseuds/stranger12
Summary: [Sequel to 2016 July 11th It is Futile & September 14th With a Broken Bottle in Hand] You have to earn it





	Things We Leave In the Sunlight

Something had changed in Paxton, and Beth knew it had been the day she told him about her experience as an Elite guest, and her turn into a sponsor. It had never occurred to her to let him know that they were on the same side, that they both hated the Elite for all they took from them, and now that she had, she was enormously happy.

Almost like day and night, Paxton loosened up. Sort of. He was still wary of everything and everyone, and his eyes were still too old for him, however, something was lighter about him. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, less guarded, or maybe it was how he seemed a tad more protective of her; he had always appeared a little willing to stand in front of her in the face of any possible threat, but now... Maybe because she had confessed that her escape from the Elite hadn’t been bathed in blood like his, or at least it hadn’t been as bloody an affair with Stuart as his no doubt had been.

Maybe he knew that the thought of hurting another person, no matter how deserving, made her want to stab herself in the neck. It wasn’t often, but she dreamed of Stuart, screaming her name as he died, and nothing could quite erase the guilt that she still felt.

Because Paxton was less an angry, caged beast and more a reluctant houseguest (which she could never begrudge him for) after the day in the park, Beth, too, changed with him. For one, it was easier to talk to him, for now he responded, even if with a quiet, unused voice, and they took to watching the TV together, sitting side by side on the couch, commenting on whatever was on. It was nice, like having a friend.

She hadn’t had a friend since Slovakia.

Still, she couldn’t not lock him up at night. It came later and later every day, as they stayed up catching up on the things Paxton had missed out on (the obvious reason behind it was never commented upon by either one). She still woke up early, but she let him out first and then started on breakfast. He didn’t help, not after he failed to break eggs properly, to not burn toast, and to not make weak coffee. His shyness and frustration endeared him to her, the glimpse of the guy he was before shining behind his serious expression.

“I have to go to the store, wanna come with?” – she asked one afternoon after realizing they didn’t have enough carrots for dinner.

“Can I stay here?” – he asked, now comfortable enough to put his feet on the coffee table.

For a moment, she paused, then nodded under his dark gaze.

“Sure. Do you want me to get anything while I’m out?”

“No” – even as she left, she could feel his eyes following her as she locked the front door, and for the first time ever, she didn’t lock him in his room before she left the apartment.

It had been long enough, and she was positive she wouldn’t return to a dead body on the sidewalk, or on her kitchen floor from slashed wrists, or anything of the sort. Nevertheless, she decided it would be wise to walk a little faster than usual, perhaps grab a taxi or something on her way back.

By the time she returned, her heart was beating out of her chest, but there was no crowd in front of her building, which was a good thing, but it didn’t make the elevator wait and ride go any faster. She unlocked her front door quicker than ever before, finding the television still on, and Paxton even more slouched on the couch, eyes closed, with the remote still in hand.

When she moved in place and the floor made a noise, his eyes went wide open and for a split second, he was a scared, caged animal again, until he saw her and visibly made himself cool down.

“Hey, sorry” – the words spilled out before she thought them through, and he shook his head, sitting straighter – “I, hum, I’m just gonna go put these away” – her smile was brief, false, and she knew he could tell, so she turned around and got to it as fats as she possible could.

The television was still blaring in the background when she heard him get up. She tried to be casual about it, and she followed him as he went into his bedroom. Worry clawed within her, and still she couldn’t move just yet. Paxton had seemed so wild, so unhinged in that one moment when he awoke, that she was thrust back to the day they met, to the day she commanded he kill someone or be killed himself.

He never said anything of the kind, though some days, she could nearly hear a whisper in her ear, that he was glad to be happy, but his hands were caked in blood, and she had been the one to put his last kill’s in them.

“Can we go out tomorrow?” – he asked as she prepared dinner. She blinked in surprise at him, her thoughts still on his potential, maybe just imaginary anger towards her.

“Of course” – she answered mechanically, then started – “Oh, no, I’m sorry, I-” – she sighed – “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I, hum. I have to go back to school in September, and tomorrow I need to do the office and”

It had been just after the end of her classes, when they met and he returned home with her, and she had hardly given school a second thought since, but then her dad had called and mentioned it like it should have been on her mind, and she felt bad for worrying him, for wearing such a horrible clock of lies and secrets – that now heavily revolved around Paxton.

“I... I’m sorry” – she put her hands on her eyes, but no tears came – “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know what I’m doing”

“You should go to school” – he said quietly. She shook her head, unable to look at him.

“You can’t even go out on your own” – she almost didn’t get the words out – “You can’t go to the store or the park or wherever without- I-”

“I’ll be fine here on my own”

“You shouldn’t have to be locked up-” – the unspoken nature of the way he spent his nights, always in his room, came to the forefront for the first time, and the guilt she felt was too heavy to bear – “I’m sorry, oh God”

This time, the tears came down hard.

Paxton did nothing, or at least she didn’t hear anything as she sobbed into her hands.

“I don’t mind it, you know”

“What?” – she looked up in alarm at his natural, easy tone. His face was as solemn as usual, and yet- Yet-

“I would do the same, if I were you” – he smiled, and she had a flash of him smiling with blood on his teeth – “Assuming I made it out alive in the first place” – she couldn’t help but return his lightness with a grin.

They spoke no more of her impending new term, or of the heavy lock sitting on his door. Instead, Paxton moved over to watch some more television (he had found a real affection for the collection of old comedies her dad gave given her, and had watched them over and over without fault), and she continued with dinner, with a little lightness to her.

After eating, they settled as usual to watch reruns of whatever sitcom was on. Paxton seemed more comfortable than usual, easily falling asleep after one a couple of episodes, and he barely moved when she got up to get herself some water.

She observed him, ever so still under the soft blanket, and put a hand in her pocket, where the key to his room rested.

He said he would have done the same thing, and she believed him. She also knew that she had almost not gone over to Chicago that day, and if she hadn’t, he would be long dead and she wouldn’t be worrying herself raw for weeks, now. No, he would’ve been wise enough to ignore every single Elite e-mail, he would’ve been wise enough to bury his head in the sand and pretend he had never stepped foot in Slovakia, or a slaughterhouse where humans were on the menu for the delight of the worst of the worst, the wealthiest of the wealthiest motherfuckers.

It was late, and she was tired, and the memories were getting to her, so she turned the television off and paused by the couch.

Paxton looked so peaceful.

With a trembling, hesitant hand, she reached into her pocket then stared at the shining key. When she went into her bedroom, she looked behind her, wondering if she had made a mistake. Nonetheless, she gently closed the door, and as she later laid in bed and her eyes started to close, she whispered to herself that everything was going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Moving the story along, somewhat.


End file.
